


This is Home

by primasveraas



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, angst is slight but its there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primasveraas/pseuds/primasveraas
Summary: Finn knows he's welcome among the Resistance. But it's never quite that easy; his past makes friendship and love and daily life complicated, even if he desperately wants to fit in.
Relationships: Finn & Leia Organa, Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 10
Kudos: 134
Collections: Finn Centric Recommendations





	This is Home

Finn knows he was reborn the day he left the First Order.

Out of blood and pain, he reentered the world. He was given a name. He was held in the embrace of friends who would become family, and the moment they saw him, they loved him.

He was struck down, and he awoke again, taking teetering, unsteady steps as he relearned how to walk. There was fire and water and darkness as he stumbled confusedly on the ship until he ran into Poe, and the universe began to make sense again.

And Finn was reborn.

Yet the past never left him. The sensation of freedom, at last, overtook him- a weight off his chest, blissful as he’d never known before. Finn wasn’t sure if it was rational to expect complete liberation when the ideals of the First Order were so deeply ingrained within him, but he was given a new life and a new identity to make his own.

If he was reborn, then FN-2187 is the ghost that haunts his every step.

On a surface level, everything is fine. He has friends, Poe and Rey, and the whole of the Resistance seems to welcome him with open arms. He is free to do as he pleases, so long as he pitches in around the base, and he doesn’t have to fight in combat unless he chooses to. He has full meals three times a day, and people who smile at him when he passes in the hall. On their new base, he can go outside and smell the fresh air and explore the natural world.

Every morning, Finn wakes up at 0600. It’s the same time the claxon went off in the First Order barracks, and true to his earliest memories, his eyes open routinely, even before the sun dawns over Ajan Kloss. Since duties don't start until 0700 or 0800, depending on rank, Finn watches the sun rise through his window, and tries not to think about how for the first time in his life, he has a window to call his own. He has his own private quarters, and they are deathly silent each day.

Regardless, Finn dresses promptly, then turns to face the light. The sun hasn’t yet crept through the trees into his room, but he knows it will soon. He glances at the chronometer sitting on his bedside table. Yesterday, the sun rose at 0641, the first beams coming through the window slowly, almost one by one. Today, he waits for the sun to rise just a few minutes later.

This is how Finn bides his time, counting minutes of sunlight because he cannot escape a lifetime of conditioning.

At 0705, Finn rises, stretching his limbs, which are aching after an hour of sitting idly. Poe rises at 0700, and Finn has quickly learned that his friend is someone who can be considered a "morning person." It's a choice, apparently, to wake early and be productive at the start of the day. They make a habit of eating together before much of the base has come to life. In this sense, they are unique: few others willingly wake so early. Even Poe’s activity and enthusiasm are special, but Finn discovers that this is due to his two cups of caf taken daily in the morning. Even so, he's still brighter than Jessika, who refuses to talk until her first cup is empty, consumed slowly and accompanied with tired, sulky eyes.

Poe greets him loudly, smiling wide and clapping the other man on the back. Finn can’t help but respond just as happily, although it’s dampened with exhaustion, even after being awake for just one hour. Poe doesn’t notice, however, or attributes it to the normalcy of life during the war. Either way, Finn is glad no one else knows. He hasn’t told anyone of his sleeplessness, that he can betray the First Order but not shake them in his daily habits.

When they get to the mess, Poe heaps his plate with food, gleefully exclaiming about the freshness of a new dish that has appeared among the standard breakfast options. Finn takes small portions of a few staples, remembering how his stomach ached when he ate too much rich food immediately after joining the Resistance.

Jessika is already at their usual table, glowering at Poe when he says good morning. After Finn asks her why she’s up so early, she tosses back her dark hair, preparing to unload her grievances.

“Someone assigned me training duty,” she says, pointing a finger accusingly at Poe, who only grins in response. “I’m teaching a few new recruits the x-wing basics.” And although she rolls her eyes to punctuate this statement, Finn knows that she doesn’t really mind, aside from requiring an extra cup of caf and some pretend sympathy for the lost hour of rest.

The female pilot sighs, returning to her plate and half-emptied mug. She looks at Finn and shakes her head. “Man, I cannot understand how you don’t eat more. I wake up and I’m _starving_.” Almost to emphasize her point, she shovels a pile of eggs into her mouth decorously.

“Charming, Pava,” Poe says, snorting. Finn chuckles too, ignoring the sensation of his stomach dropping into the floor. The food provided by the Resistance is far more than he’s used to- so much more than the First Order had ever allotted for their soldiers. It was never enough then, but it didn’t matter. Their job was to function, not to be satisfied.

Still, Finn considers taking more food. His portioning had led to embarrassment one day when his stomach had growled loudly during a Resistance meeting. Most paid him no mind, but Poe, standing next to him, had offered Finn a ration bar, furthering the heat already burning Finn’s cheeks. He had promptly refused, ashamed that his body had ousted his hunger. He was already receiving plenty of food; he shouldn’t need even more.

Despite his thoughts, the meal continues, the pilots beside Finn drawing him out of his reverie. They are a reminder; he is a part of them now, but Finn does not get up to add more food to his plate. He starts the day still hungry.

Most of the day passes normally; by now he knows to smile at his fellow Resistance members in the hall and relax his posture when he walks. Only once does he catch himself looking around in fear of being reprimanded for breaking protocol, but he manages to remember where he is and the right way to behave. He attends a strategy meeting, laughs with his friends, and as the day continues, the knot of anxiety in his stomach begins to unwind.

It’s clearly fine, and Finn tries to show it. Most of the time, Finn doesn’t even feel his heart beating out of his chest; the fact that he can disregard it demonstrates his progress. Even when his voice falters midconversation, after missing Snap’s layered sarcasm minutes into a debate, he recovers quickly enough that they all can laugh and move on. Finn laughs the loudest, failing to notice how Poe refrains, moving slightly closer to his friend.

It’s been a good day, Finn decides, with significantly fewer blunders made than the day before. Finn tries to maintain the conversation before he lets himself get lost in review, thinking over what he should have done better. But by the time he’s in the command room, even after the last meal of the day, his mind wanders, and General Organa, made haughty by extended hours, barks out his name suddenly.

Finn instantly stiffens, snapping to attention. His gaze hardens, staring straight ahead, and his heart thuds in his chest, so loudly that he’ll be scolded for that too. His arms are rods at his side, and Finn braces for Phasma’s raised voice-

“Relax, Finn,” the General says softly. Her tone is as gentle as Finn’s ever heard it, mirroring her comforting touch as she reaches out to grasp Finn's shoulder. "We don't do that here. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Finn nods, shame burning inside him, fueled by the anxiety that’s made its home within every part of his being. She is looking at him with pity in her eyes, and Finn cannot meet her gaze. Perhaps she realizes this, because she speaks again, this time assuming something closer to her typical conviction.

“To win a battle and to return scarred is still a victory. You have been fighting this battle ever since you got here. Nobody expects you to lose, but no one expects it to be easy, either.” Her words become conversational, as if Finn’s plight were the changing of the seasons. “But one good thing about living on a rebel base is that you’re surrounded by good, patient people. And most of us know a thing or two about change, too.”

She leaves it at that, but her eyes are sparkling. Finn comes back to himself, nodding. That one of the biggest differences between his old life and this new one- he's never felt a mother's gaze until Leia had looked at him, with such an unfamiliar sympathy and love. It's inexplicably wonderful; Finn wants to burst into tears and hug the General all at once. Sometimes he wonders if she would ever let him, but he can't allow himself to ever decide. Instead, he nods again, clearing his throat so he can manage a soft “thank you.”

Leia smiles briefly, then dismisses him for the night, declaring to the whole room that they have free time until duty begins again tomorrow.

***

Weeks pass, and Finn does better. He still doesn’t take more food, but each day, even each hour, he becomes more and more unrecognizable as a First Order trooper. He becomes Finn, who is part of the rebellion all around, born of his friends’ humor, love, and loyalty. It is good, even if he can still sometimes hear his heart pounding in his chest or stiffens whenever an admiral passes by.

At night, he collapses into bed, exhausted from the effort of assimilating into the Resistance. As soon as he’s left off from duty, Finn usually retreats to his quarters, preferring a few moments of peace and quiet to himself, lying on his bed as the world spins around him and he tries to regain a sense of balance between his new life and the one he left behind. He doesn’t wish to go back- of course not- but when he’s exhausted and depleted at the end of the day, he wants something familiar. Which in turn makes him angry, because all that’s ever been familiar was the First Order, and he certainly doesn’t want that. So the cycle continues, and Finn is helpless to it, even if it gets easier day by day. He is still resigned to the hurricane of emotions and tiredness at every quiet moment available to him, when the bustling life in the Resistance slows enough for him to think.

It’s on one of these nights, when Finn is halfway undressed and slumped in bed, that Poe comes knocking on his door. Finn, mostly asleep and lethargically watching the sun set through his window, scrambles to his feet, pulling on a pair of pants frantically.

“Coming!” Finn shouts, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, although his heart is racing enough that he’s fully awake already.

Poe is smiling when the door opens, but it quickly fades upon seeing Finn, wrinkled clothes, messy hair, and all. Tenderly, he reaches out to touch the other man’s shoulder, but Finn fights to keep a smile on his face still.

“Can I come in?”

Finn steps aside, allowing Poe into his quarters, almost regretting it when Poe’s critical eyes sweep over the room, taking in the emptiness of it all, including the bed that has already been slept in that evening.

“Take a breath, Finn,” Poe tells him, managing an easy grin once more. “I was just stopping by.”

Finn nods, relaxing his shoulders and posture, leaning into Poe as he speaks, showing calculated interest beyond his genuine appreciation at Poe’s visit.

“So,” the pilot continues, “is this where you disappear to every night?”

Freezing momentarily, as if he’d been caught, Finn has to remember how to talk. Perhaps Poe realizes this, because he speaks again, his tone gentle.

“I was just worried about you, buddy. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Finn shifts uncomfortably, dropping his gaze. “It’s a lot. Every day” His words are timid and painfully soft. “I just want to fit in but it’s all so new.”

Stepping closer to Finn, Poe reaches out to grasp Finn’s arm. “I understand, Finn. But you aren’t alone in this. I know how overwhelming this can be. We’re surrounded by all kinds of beings from around the galaxy during the middle of a war. I know it’s harder for you, but if you ever need anything, just ask.”

Wordlessly, Finn nods, and Poe draws him close, wrapping his arms around Finn’s waist and letting the former stormtrooper bury his face in Poe’s neck.

***

So Finn does ask. In the morning, when Poe offers him a bite of his food, he tries it and asks for more. Not every day, but sometimes. He asks about species of beings he’s never seen before, to try and understand all parts of the Resistance. He asks how he can help, how he can reach out to people he’s never talked to on the base. He asks how to fit in, how he should address his superiors and compose himself during meetings. He asks medics and Poe and everyone he knows who has faced impossible odds and the anxiety that comes with it on how to find and keep calm. He asks for help when he doesn’t understand something, even after the relevant moment has passed, because Poe is always there afterward, his eyes kind and knowing, and Finn learns that Poe will never stop being there for him. It is gradual and slow, but soon enough, Finn isn’t embarrassed or afraid anymore, to need Poe’s help and patience, and life becomes easier.

So Finn later asks, only partially shy, if he can kiss Poe.

(Poe says yes.)

Then Poe is there, in the early hours, when Finn wakes before dawn. His boyfriend is a light sleeper; as soon as Finn stirs in in his arms, Poe rises too. At first, they start their day together, beginning their daily duties hours earlier, but as time goes on, and Finn feels more at home in Poe’s embrace, he stays in bed longer, even if he can’t fall asleep again. Until, one day, Finn opens his eyes and sees Poe smiling above him. Finn is confused, but upon checking the chronometer next to him, he realizes that it is far past 0600. This does not happen the next day, nor the one after that, but it is the start of a gradual change, one that will continue through to the rest of his life.

They share a cup of caf after, especially when it becomes routine for Poe to wake Finn, despite the latter's grumpy protests. Finn starts by sipping the dark beverage, made strong and without sugary additives, even though it's far too bitter for Finn's preferences. Poe laughs at him when his nose wrinkles at the flavor, but he doesn't mind it when their kisses shortly thereafter still have the lingering warmth and taste of the drink.

Finn discovers his favorite food, a dish made from exotic fruits. The recipe has been passed on from Shara Bey to her son, who recreates it for Finn after a particularly bountiful supply run, and all Finn wants is more, a thousand more lazy afternoons watching Poe cook and mutter to himself in languages from Yavin IV, and kissing Finn periodically as he does it all.

They hold hands in the hall, and Finn finds himself grinning back at his friends, heat flushing his cheeks when Poe tells him how beautiful his smile is. That’s new too, the ease with which he can navigate teasing and sarcasm, and he is overjoyed when Black Squadron falls to pieces at one of his jokes.

Leia smiles at him brightly as ever, and after Finn suggests a new strategy, he realizes she's beaming at him. Once the meeting adjourns, she wraps her arm around his shoulder and tells him she's glad he's home. He does get choked up then, turning away so Leia doesn't see the shine in his eyes, but she is merciful enough to squeeze his arm and walk away, leaving the statement hanging in the air, and Finn to his joy and thoughts.

But she’s right, he thinks, as the Resistance celebrates another victory that night. He’s curled in Poe’s arms, watching the flames of the bonfire flicker into the night, listening to the laughter and shouts of joy from the rest of the base as they drink and party with a sense of carefreeness that is surprisingly common here, even during the war.

This is home.


End file.
